


Trial and Ares

by Amorette



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Multi, based on mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4598865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Greek mythology, Ares was the first being tried for murder.  It was found to be justifiable homicide.  This is my version, based on some delving into myth and the mentoring of the late great Thamiris and the members of the gone but not forgotten KSAres list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial and Ares

Halirrhothius: A son of Poseidon by the nymph Euryte. Halirrhothius achieved distinction only by his death. He raped Alcippe, daughter of Ares by Agraulus, near the Acropolis. Ares killed him for his deed. Poseidon brought charges against Ares on the Areopagus for murder, but Ares was acquitted at the trial. This is said to the be the first murder trial and the origin of the name Areopagus (Hill of Ares.) {Euripides, Electra, 1258-1261; Apollodorus 3.14.2}  
From the Meridian Handbook of Classical Mythology by Edward Tripp

Trial and Ares  
By Amorette

I first heard about it from my mother. She burst into my inner chamber, weeping hysterically, flinging herself into my arms with a sob.

"They're going to kill him!"

"Who?"

"Ares," she wailed, "Your father."

"Mother." I pushed her away, forcing her to sit down and tell me slowly, what had happened. And so I heard about the assault on Alcippe, my youngest, mortal half-sister, by the foul son of Poseidon, Halirrhothius. I heard what that ill-named, ill-born creature had done to the innocent Alcippe and what my fiercely protective father had done to Halirrhothius.

"Poseidon wants him executed," wept Aphrodite, her goddess' tears sparkling and beautiful, even as they rolled down her cheeks. "Wants him killed or worse."

Worse. I could imagine worse. His godhood stripped from him, his body tossed into the darkest pits of Tartarus for an eternity of agony. I felt my heart contract in my chest.

"Oh, Cupid," she moaned, twisting her hands together, her rose colored robes fading to the color of ashes. "He doesn't deserve that!"

No, not that. I wasn't sure what Ares did deserve, some punishment for his petty cruelties, his brutal indifference, but not an eternity suffering in response to one of his few decent instincts.

I calmed her down enough to get the whole story. Zeus deciding that now was the time to put a pet theory of his into practice, a trial by peers to decide the justice of a god's actions. I said nothing as I thought that gods considered themselves above such concerns, my father most of all. Was this truly a concept that Zeus had been turning over in his vast brain or was this just a chance to play with his most powerful and least loved son?

They would judge him, the eldest and strongest, the Twelve minus one who was accused and one who brought the charge, and they would decide if the murderer deserved punishment. And if the trial went well, according to the judgment of Zeus alone, then it would serve as an example, to gods and mortals, of how to deal with these matters.

Until then, the accused was being held in a chamber near the Great Hall on Olympus, bound by the chains of Hephaestus, his power held in abeyance by the room and the chains, guarded by Athena and her chosen. 

I winced when Mother told me that. Ares could endure confinement and had before but being under the watchful eye of Athena would grate on him more than anything. They loathed each other because they needed each other. I was glad that the trial would be held as soon as daylight broke over the Acropolis tomorrow. Longer than that and the Gods of War would be in open warfare.

I was trying to decide who to approach about visiting Ares in prison. Athena liked me less than my father. At least she accepted, grudgingly, that he had his uses. She thought I should never have been born. Before I even tried to approach either Athena or Zeus, Iris, the messenger of Hera, came to me.

Iris liked Ares. With the notable exceptions of the virgin goddesses, the females on Olympus all liked Ares. He was handsome and he applied himself with the same enthusiasm to the bedroom arts as he did to the ways of battle. 

"It's not fair, " she whispered to me as she gave me the scroll. I recognized the seal, crimson wax with the impression of crossed swords. There was a second one beside it, gold wax imprinted with a spear. Athena must have read and approved the writing. That must have annoyed my father to no end, to know that his communications were being examined. "He was just defending. . ."

"I know." I took the scroll. "But Zeus has his ideas and I guess we all have to put up with them."

She nodded, biting her lush lower lip. Tears trembled on her lashes. She must like my father more than I realized. Or, possibly, she was suffering because Hera was her mistress and Hera wasn't likely to approve of her favorite son being put on trial.

After she vanished, I broke the seals and unrolled the scroll. My mother was leaning over my shoulder but there wasn't much to read. In my father's precise handwriting were the words 'Come and see me.' Nothing else. Not even a signature.

"I wonder what he wants," murmured Aphrodite in my ear, her fingertips touching the words. 

"Don't get sentimental, Mother," I replied, dropping the scroll to the table beside me. "I'm his eldest son and he has a sense of protocol. Probably wants to use me to give orders to Phobus and Deimus."

"Then why not summon them?"

"Maybe he has. Maybe he just wants someone to scream at and I'm handy. I'll find out."

I turned to leave and when I saw Aphrodite, holding the scroll in her hands, fresh tears on her cheeks, I relented. I wasn't sure why she insisted on loving him but she did, even if she was sensible enough not to tell him that. I gave her a hug and a reassuring kiss on the cheek, whispering in her ear.

"He'll be fine, Mother. He's Ares. He always survives."

I left her in my chamber, clutching the note, and went to see my father. There were two guards outside the door that lead to his prison, immortal heroes who had died in the service of Athena. I didn't know their names. They barely glanced at me as they smartly undid the heavy bolt that held the door closed. At least Athena herself wasn't around. I was grateful for small favors. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I stepped into my father's presence.

The room was large and well-appointed, with windows that gave views of distant mountain peaks. The furniture was all of the finest quality, the walls were hung with tapestries telling of the defeat of the Titans. It wouldn't have looked like a prison cell had it not held a prisoner.

He was standing by the farthest window, hands folded over his chest. He was facing away from me but I could imagine his expression. Instead of his usual black leather, he was wearing a knee-length chiton, dyed charcoal grey. At first, I thought the wide belt was mere decoration but as he turned, I realized it was part of the chains. Around his waist and his neck were bands of black leather. At his ankles and wrists, manacles of metal. All were connected by strands of dull silver chain. They were plain, these bonds, without engraving or other decoration. Hephaestus had made the chains to bind his brother simple and strong. I wondered if their plainness was tribute to Ares, or rebuke.

He nodded at me. He rarely addressed me by name. He had named me Eros but my mother's nickname of Cupid, which he disliked, had stuck. He expressed his annoyance by simply not calling me anything.

Fine, I thought. "Why did you send for me?"

His eyes flickered away from mine. He seemed uncomfortable. 

"You know what happened." It was a statement, not a question, but I answered anyway.

"Yes. Everyone on Olympus does. With this trial. . ."

He made an abrupt gesture with his hand and the chains rung against each other like bells.

"Just my luck. Bad timing. If he'd had this idea tomorrow, Artemis or Apollo would have killed someone for some imagined slight and I'd be a judge against them." His eyes came back to mine. "I understand the concept of a trial. There has to be some discipline, some rules, or you have chaos. There has to be a chain of command."

Trust my father to find a military metaphor for everything. Even barefoot, wearing a plain robe like a servant, he was still a commanding presence. He didn't need a weapon to be a warrior.

"And we need to set an example for mortals. If you don't show them the rule of law, they are little better than animals. They need to know that there are punishments for transgressions, otherwise they would never obey."

And obedience, I thought, carefully shielding my thoughts from him, is key in your world.

"You still haven't told me why you wanted to see me."

Ah. He glanced away again. Uncomfortable. Why?

He sat at the table, twitching his head towards the chair beside him. I took it cautiously. I was rarely this close to my father and his presence disturbed me.

Especially now. He had laid his hands on the table, then folded them together, as if he were nervous. Odd. My father was never nervous. He wasn't looking me either. Usually, he caught me with his gaze and I felt as if I were a butterfly pinned against a board.

"You know what happened to Alcippe, then."

Another non-question. I nodded. He lifted his head and looked out the window.

"He was brutal." Brutality never bothered my father when he applied it but this was different. "Cruel. He hurt her." His eyes drifted back to mine. "I don't want her to think that's the way it is."

I hope I kept my expression blank as I nodded again. He hadn't called me to give him an easy target for his rage or even to give me some last fatherly advice. He wanted me to help heal his injured child.

Keeping the quiver out of my voice wasn't easy but I managed it. Never show emotion in front of Ares, I had learned that long ago. "I understand."

"Someday." he said, his voice tinged with feelings I barely dared credit to him, "Not right away, she'll need time to forgot the worst of it. In time, a few weeks perhaps, I want you to go to her and show her how it's meant to be." He blinked suddenly. Ares never blinked. "A woman's first time should be gentle."

I nodded. I couldn't have spoken if I had anything to say. I don't think I had ever heard Ares use the word 'gentle' before. I swallowed, painfully aware of his eyes on me. What was I seeing in those endless depths, besides the fires of War?

"I'll do my best," I managed to whisper.

"I know you will." He looked away before he gave away too much. "There's something else."

"Anything." I meant it.

"You're the eldest. If it goes against me tomorrow, then Zeus will have to find someone to take my place."

I wanted to scream, to deny even the slightest possibility, but I kept silent.

"I don't want it to be you. You could do it, if you had to, but you'd hate it." He sat back a little, shifting in his chair, so I could see the corner of his mouth turn up. "Olympus already has a reluctant Goddess of War. My replacement shouldn't be reluctant. Besides," Now he was actually smiling. "I wouldn't wish Athena on my worst enemy, let alone my eldest son."

"No, I don't think we'd work well together."

"No. You spend even more time fucking than I do and that would make her crazy. Then again, maybe you could flap those pretty wings at her and get her to spread her legs. Might help her disposition."

I snickered. It was a running joke on Olympus, that Athena and Artemis would be easier to get along with if they weren't sexually frustrated. My mother had a whole complicated theory on the subject. 

He continued, still the God of War, even if he was in shackles. "Discord might be appointed but she isn't suited in the long run. She is better at dissension than inspiration. Same problem with your brothers. Which is fine for what they do now but not so good if one of them gets my position. They can start wars but they can't follow through, keep the troops going when it gets tough." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Maybe Zeus will appoint someone in the interim while he trains my successor. Whoever it is, I want you to work with them. We both know that passions can be used as the fulcrum and whoever succeeds me will need you. If it's Discord, try to be patient. If your wings don't work on Athena, maybe try them on Discord."

We exchanged a slight smile at the very idea. "If its one or both of your brothers, give them what support you can. They're not the sharpest arrows in the quiver and they are young but with time, either of them could handle the job. I don't want you to work against them, even though I know working with them is a pain but I'd appreciate it. . ."

"I'll do it."

He nodded. He didn't thank me. Ares never thanked anyone for anything. He just acknowledged.

Pushing his chair back, Ares said, "You'd better go before Athena decides we're doing something perverse in here and breaks down the door."

I smiled at him, wanting him to smile back. "Depraved."

It worked. He grinned. "Unnatural."

"The only unnatural act is one that can't be performed." He had told me that years ago, when he was first teaching me. 

I couldn't go. Not like this. He was watching me, eyes bright, catching every nuance even as I tried to hide them.

"Father."

His strong hands found my arms and pulled me against him, my face turned to his neck, his long curling hair soft against my cheek. My wings don't make it easy for someone to embrace me but Ares wasn't going to let a little thing like a son with wings stop him. He nearly crushed me to his chest as his voice, hoarse and low, whispered, "Take care of them."

Them. His other, half mortal children. Unlike his father, my father cared about the children he sired. He had never raped a woman, nor abandoned one who conceived a child of his. He had several half mortal children besides Alcippe, some only infants, some grown, some aged.

"I will," I whispered back, my voice equally hoarse, my tears soaking into the fine grey wool of his chiton.

He pushed me away, turning back to the window. 

"At least," he muttered, his voice back to normal, with its usual cynical edge, "I don't have to wait long. Guess I should be glad for the old man's impatience."

"I'll be at the trial."

He snorted. "Of course you will. Everyone will. Social event of season. Now get out of here. I don't want Athena to find any excuse to bother me."

I love you, too, I thought, loudly and clearly, as I left him in his cell.

I doubt if anyone slept that night. I know I didn't. Mother and I comforted each other and, to my surprise, my younger siblings. Deimus and Phobus came to Mother's temple and we spent the night, talking and fucking, planning and debating. In the morning, we all dragged ourselves to rocky hilltop near the scene of the crime.

Zeus had made arrangements for the trial, with the row of thrones that normally occupied the Great Chamber arrayed across one side of a small, open field, two tables facing them, and tiers of seats held impossibly above the site for all who wished to view this experiment in Justice. Far below us, there were mortals watching, watching a trial to judge a god. Zeus obviously wanted everyone to learn from this. I doubted the humans gathered below could see anything beyond the glow of gathered divinity but it was no doubt impressive, to mere mortals.

Aphrodite, as one of the panel of judges, had dressed soberly, for her, and sat on her throne with the others. Two of the great thrones were empty; the one carved of sea coral that belonged to Poseidon and the throne of black marble that belonged to Ares.

Zeus was in his most awesome mode, with long silver beard and hair, a crown of stars above his brow. He wore a white robe with a sky blue toga over one shoulder, managing to look wise and all-knowing. The others wore their usual appearances, solemn and glorious, except for Hades, who looked more harried and unhappy than usual.

We had discussed it last night, what would happen to Ares if he were condemned. He might be stripped of his godhood and killed like a mortal, but then his soul would end up in the Underworld. We had managed to laugh, the four of us, imagining Hades stuck with Ares for an eternity. Then, sadly, Aphrodite had said there was another way to kill a god, to dissipate their very essence to the aether. Should that happen, Ares would cease to exist. Although, from the look on Hades' face, he didn't seem sure it could be done.

All the others were there, every god and godling, every minor functionary, even those whose powers lay in the realm of the earth, not Olympus, like Pan, or those who called the sea their home, like Triton. Every seat was taken on the benches that rose up towards the distant sky.

Deimus nudged me. Three goddess sat together. I stared. I had never seen my father's three full sisters sitting next to each other. They had nothing in common, the goddesses of Discord and Youth and Childbirth, save their dark hair and dark eyes. I suddenly saw, for the first time, how much they looked like each other and, in turn, their accused brother. Others had noticed them sitting together, a less than subtle way of expressing their support of Ares.

Poseidon sat at one of the two tables, his blue robes shifting as if they were still moved by the waves of the sea. No one sat at the other although there was a chair.

Zeus banged his lightning bolt against the ground. Sparks shot out as it rang with the sound of thunder.

"Bring in the accused."

From behind the row of thrones, Ares, flanked by Athena's heroes, entered. There was a collective gasp. He was dressed the way I had seen him the day before. It didn't matter. In chains, weaponless, he still looked dangerous. His gaze passed briefly over Poseidon before settling on Zeus. It occurred to me that Ares probably didn't blame Poseidon for bringing charges. Had the circumstances been reversed, Ares would have been furious over the killing of his child, too.

"Zeus." His voice was as cold as steel and just as inflectionless.

"Ares." Zeus raised his arms. I could feel everyone around me settle back into their seats, prepared for one of Zeus' long speeches.

We got one. Ares went to stand by the second table as his guard faded away in to the crowd. Ares ignored the chair, managing to look casual, even without the hilt of a sword on which to rest his hands. Everyone else tried to look interested. 

We got the whole speech, all about justice and the balance of right and wrong, punishments fitting the crimes, murder as the ultimate crime. It was an impressive speech and had I never heard one of Zeus' orations before, I might have been impressed.

Athena was looking inordinately proud of herself as she gazed adoringly at her father but then she usually looked that way. Hera's expression was blank, as if her mind were somewhere far away. Hades looked as if he could think of a thousand things he would rather be doing. Apollo looked bored. Artemis kept looking around and around the chamber, as if she were searching for her prey. 

Zeus ended by saying, "Show the evidence."

Poseidon rose, trident in hand. "This is the death of my son." He waved his trident and a window appeared in front of everyone.

A patch of grass below the Acropolis. Ares, his face distorted in a snarl, grabbed up Poseidon's son. One hand was wrapped around Halirrhothius' throat. The other reached between the rapist's legs, crushing his still aroused genitals in a grip of iron. 

The murder was almost silent. Ares' hand crushed his victim's throat so Halirrhothius couldn't scream. I think Alcippe must have fainted. All we could hear was Ares' breathing.

Ares' hand on Halirrhothius's crotch pushed upward, into the other man's body. There was a spray of blood as Halirrhothius' eyes bulged. Ares must have gotten hold of something inside, a curve of the pelvic bone perhaps, that he could grip. His other hand , on Halirrhothius' throat, drove through muscle and blood vessel and cartilage until his fingers wrapped around Halirrhothius' spine.

I couldn't look away. None of us could. I could hear the indrawn breaths as we watched my father tear a man in half. Blood and all the shining, ghastly things that lurked inside physical bodies spurted out across the grass, across my father. Halirrhothius was only a half god so he had a purely physical body. Or had. Now it was in two parts.

The scene vanished, after lingering for a moment on Ares, covered in gore, his teeth bared in a madman's grin.

If gods could vomit, the ground would be covered with it. Only a few of the gods--the ones mostly closely associated with the God of War--weren't looking sick.

"My son," gasped Poseidon, pointing at Ares, "died at his hands. Brutally. Cruelly. With no mercy."

"Wait!"

Hera, Queen of the Gods, stood up. Her eyes swept the hilltop. Her voice echoed as she commanded, "Show it all!"

Silence.

Zeus nodded, then gestured with his lightning bolt.

The window opened again but now we could see Alcippe walking slowly through the grassy pasture, picking wildflowers. She wore a pale green robe, the color of the grass, wrapped around her slender waist and under her full breasts with golden cord. Her long, curling black hair hung down to her waist, caressing the soft curves of her hips. My little sister was a beautiful young woman, barely fifteen, little more than a child.

She was singing softly, a little wordless tune. I watched her, aware that had I seen her at that moment, her swaying, graceful movements would have aroused me. She reached one slender hand back to tuck a stray strand of silken hair over her ear. 

Halirrhothius was coming up from below. He was an inhuman creature, with straggling greenish hair and a crest that rose from his narrow skull. His hands, as they reached for Alcippe, showed webbing between their fingers. To a sea creature like himself, he would have been handsome. To Alcippe, who had spent her life among her mortal family, only occasionally seeing her father in his mortal guise, Halirrhothius was horrific.

His hand grabbed at her as she bent to adjust the strap of her sandal around her delicate ankle. She turned, her soft lips open to scream. She slapped ineffectually at his hands, trying to pull away, to escape.

I couldn't watch. I looked at Ares. While Poseidon had shown the murder, I had looked over at him. Ares had watched, his expression unchanging. Now, I could see the tension in his jaw. Now, his eyes closed. He could watch himself tear a man in half but not watch his daughter's attack. I turned back to see what the God of War could not endure.

She struggled, crying out. He hit her, hard, across her face, his long clawlike nails cutting into her pink flesh. He tore the gown free of her body, biting her pale nipples until they bled. He hit her again and we could hear the sounds of the bones in her cheek and jaw as they broke. His hands spread her thighs, raising bruises with his brutal grip and then we watched as he thrust himself into her innocent body, tearing her even more, until her blood soaked into the grass beneath them. 

One of her cries, before he silenced her with a blow, had been for her father. He appeared, in a roll of flame. Halirrhothius, who was still pushing himself into Alcippe, glanced over his shoulder, his eyes going wide in horror. He had attacked a pretty girl to satisfy some brutish lust. He obviously hadn't realized whose child he was grunting over.

We saw it again, the murder, the dismemberment, but we saw more. After Ares cast the body parts aside, he turned back to Alcippe. 

Never had I seen the expression on his face that I saw now. He dropped to his knees, waving the remains of Halirrhothius off himself as he bent over his daughter. With hands as gentle as they had been cruel only seconds before, he brushed his fingertips across her face, healing the worst of her injuries.

All gods could heal but I had never seen Ares perform that act before. I had seen him injure but never heal. Now, his face a mask of anguish, he healed the worst of Alcippe's injuries, then bent over to lift her into his arms.

He was so careful, of her delicate body, cradling her against him, his lips pressed to her curls. We could hear him, even if Alcippe herself were still unconscious.

"It will be all right, " he whispered, softly, sadly, "Your father's here. I'll take you home. It will be all right."

The scene ended as Ares and his burden vanished.

Silence. Silence as I have never heard. No one even dared breath as every head turned towards the God of War.

He had arranged his features into their usual sneer but we could all still see, in our minds, his face as he bent over Alcippe.

Zeus broke the silence.

"Ares, do you understand the function of this trial?"

Ares, who looked as if he were suppressing a yawn, nodded.

"Do you have anything to say?"

I half expected him to slouch into his chair and say no but, to my surprise and the obvious surprise of everyone, Ares started to speak. He wasn't the most eloquent of speakers but he had a sharp, concise mind. He said, sharply, concisely, what he had said to me yesterday, in his cell. That he understood the need for law and order, for a system of judgment, for rules that must be obeyed and for punishments that must follow disobedience. Even Athena seemed impressed.

"The rule of law," he concluded, staring at his father, "must have weight. I understand these things." Unspoken was the rest of the sentence, 'even if you think me too stupid and boorish to understand.'

"In my defense, I wish to remind you that I was created to protect that which is mine and to punish those who try to harm it, whether I am protecting all of Greece from a barbarian horde or protecting that which is mine personally." He glanced over a Poseidon. "Harm what is mine and I will punish you. No matter what this council decides, I would do the same thing again."

Poseidon was frowning. I wondered, suddenly, if he had wanted this trial himself or if Zeus were using him as he was using my father. Surely Poseidon couldn't condone the actions of his son against my sister.

Zeus nodded at Poseidon, who looked distinctly as if he wished himself somewhere besides in the middle of this experiment.

"I appreciate Ares' protective nature," rumbled the God of the Seas, "but surely that was an overreaction to a young man's inexperience with women."

Everyone female in the room glared daggers at Poseidon, who managed to find a spot on the table in front of him to be deserving of his attention.

"The Council," intoned Zeus, "will decide the verdict."

A haze descended to separate us from them, although I could see, faintly, through the mist, as Hera, Athena and Artemis leaned towards Zeus. Even though Athena and Artemis loathed my father, I imagined they were defending him now. I wanted to smile at the thought. 

Instead, I scanned the tiers around me. I could tell that, for the most part, Ares' actions were seen as defensible, if a bit excessive. His full sisters were leaning together, talking quietly. Maybe they were taking advantage to catch up. I did notice Priapus had vanished. Probably didn't want to be seen enjoying Alcippe even vicariously.

Ares had taken his seat, stretching out to make himself as comfortable as he could. He was amusing himself by trying to tie knots in the chains that bound his wrists.

Surely Zeus couldn't rule against him, not under the circumstances. Although, Zeus would be willing to sacrifice Ares to make a point. I didn't get along very well with my father but our relationship was a thousand times better than whatever bond the King of the Gods had with his legitimate offspring.

Before I had time to consider that conundrum, the mist evaporated. I knew how it had gone the instant I saw my grandmother's face clearly. Hera wasn't smiling but she didn't look as if she wanted to do to Zeus what Ares has done to Halirrhothius. 

The lightning bolt rang against the ground.

"The accused may rise," said Zeus, sounding a little put out.

Ares slouched to his feet. He must have known the same instant the rest of us did, that he was safe. He knew he had to wait for Zeus to pontificate, though.

Zeus did just that. At least his speech was relatively short. Law must be served. Examples must be set. Finally, he waved his hand and announced, "Ares, God of War, this Council has found you innocent of all charges on the grounds you were justified to punish Halirrhothius for his act."

The chains melted away, like the mist. In the blink of an eye, Ares was clothed again as the God of War, in black leather, the Sword of War at his hip. And in another blink of an eye, he was gone. No speeches for him. Ares never thanked anybody.

The rest was an anti-climax. A few gods stood around discussing the matter but most of them left as soon as they dared. My mother ran to my side, her clothes almost evaporating as well. She threw her arms around my neck.

"Oh, Cupie," she moaned, "It was so awful. That horrible man deserved what happened to him."

I pulled her off of me. "Yes, he did, although maybe Ares could have found a less messy way to deal with it."

"Oh, you know him," she chirped airily, the horrors of the last few minutes fading already, "He isn't very tidy."

So ended the first murder trial. The bards were set to work on describing it, making sure that every word of Zeus' speeches were recorded while the more gruesome details were set aside. Mankind needed to know that the gods were subject to laws as well. Soon, there were courts and trials popping up all over the earth. 

***

I cared nothing for courts and trials. I had my own concerns. I had petitions to answer, orgies to attend, all the matters of import to the God of Love and Desire.

The King of Delos had a daughter. He had been praying to me regularly about her, asking that I let her fall in love only with someone worthy of her. His sister had run off with a common soldier years before and he wanted to avoid a similar embarrassment.

My temple in Delos was small but well-appointed. When I arrived, the king and his daughter were kneeling in front of the altar as the king burned a haunch of spring lamb, sprinkled with sweet herbs, in my honor. There were flowers scattered around the offering, new wine in libation cups, piles of expensive incense on the corners of the altar swirling aromatic smoke into the still, warm air.

The king was asking me if I could arrange for a neighboring king to fall in love with his daughter when the neighbor came to visit. He had petitioned Aphrodite as well but knew that his neighbor was a man of strong passions, not simpering romance. He also knew that his pale, wan daughter, with her slightly crossed eyes and her bony knees, was not likely to inspire passion in anyone.

He laid a finely wrought simulacrum of an arrow made all of gold on the altar.

"God of Love," he intoned in his reedy voice. "Hear my prayers and accept my offerings. Let my daughter find favor with the prince of Paros."

The girl shifted on her knees, tugging at the veil covering her hair. The king glanced over at her, obviously annoyed. He raised his voice as he continued. "And let my daughter be obedient to the will of her father and her family."

I knew then I would use one of my lead arrows on the prince of Paxos when he arrived tomorrow and find the foulest peasant for the princess.

After I dealt with Delos, I went to Athens, then Syracuse, then Troy, then Mycenae, wherever I was petitioned. I stopped at the forge of my uncle Hephaestus to see if he had more arrows ready for me.

The God of Fire and the Forge was working at his anvil when I arrived.

"Are they done yet? " I snapped at him, pacing the length of his forge. 

Hephaetus looked up at me mildly. He dealt with my father regularly. My temper was not likely to offend him.

"Using a lot of the lead arrows these days, " he said, stilling his hammer.

I glared at him. "Lot of people deserve them."

He shrugged. "I've made you another dozen but the rest will have to wait until I finish some things for Zeus. He's having a new wing built on his palace to honor justice and I have. . ."

"Fine." I snatched up the lead arrows. There were twelve gold ones, too, but I left them. My quiver was still full of those.

"Stop by some time," Hephaestus said as he bent to his work. "I don't see much of you these days."

I had often visited his forge when I was a child, usually to get away from my mother. I had liked it then, with it's fascinating bits and pieces of all of his clever inventions. We hadn't talked much, except when he explained the intricate workings of some piece of machinery, but I liked my quiet, taciturn uncle. He was very unlike his sharp-tempered brother.

There. Hanging on the wall. A set of plain metal chains attached to manacles and a leather collar and belt.

Suddenly, I wanted to be far away from Hephaetus' forge. I knew my mother was holding an orgy on the beach at Samothrace and so I went.

I had spent much of that spring at orgies, either at my temples or my mother's. although they didn't help. Petitions continued to annoy me and prayers distracted me without giving me any satisfaction.

I arrived at her orgy and found, to my surprise, that my brothers and some other of my more warlike kin were in attendance, rolling around together in various states of activity. Aphrodite ran up to me, wearing nothing but some jewelry and a smile, and threw her arms around me.

"Cupie!" She cried. I winced, pushing her away.

"It's Cupid, mother." It's Eros, mother.

She gave me her prettiest pout, lower lip quivering, eyelashes fluttering. "You just have been so down lately. And contrary. What was that with the king of Delos? He gave some serious. . ."

"Not now." I saw my cousin Strife, sprawled on his back, hair black against pale, pale skin, while my brother Deimus panted beside him. They must have been recovering from whatever they were doing earlier. I decided to help them recover.

"Evening, boys," I said as I stepped over bodies to reach Strife and Deimus. Deimus grinned up at me and giggled, one hand reaching up to touch my hard cock.

"Well, well, feather boy," he chirped.

Shoving him aside, I dropped over Strife, straddling my cousin's slender body. Strife looked up at me, licking his lips.

"What have we here?" He said cheerfully, wrapping a firm hand around my erection. "Why is looks like the Dick of Love itself."

I reached down and grabbed handfuls of Strife's spiky hair, pulling his face close to my crotch. "Suck it, you pitiful excuse for a god," I snarled. He grinned and shivered. Behind me, I felt Deimus hands run along my wings as he giggled.

"Oh, Cupid, I love it when you're strong," whispered my brother, biting my ear.

"Shut up and fuck Strife."

Deimus moaned and grabbed his cousin's legs.

We fucked. Me, Strife, Deimus, anyone else who came my way. I could outfuck practically any god and the one god who might match me for stamina wasn't present. I fucked and sucked and moaned and came and came and slapped Strife's face until he wide-eyed and trembling.

It didn't help. I found myself lying on top of my cousin, listening to his soft moans. He was of no use to me. None of them were. I stood up.

"Cupid." My mother stepped delicately around the bodies beneath her. Her hair was disarrayed and her body marked with passion bites and dried semen. Casually, she waved a hand in front of herself and was instantly tidy. I remained the way I was, down to the blood trickling down my hip from where someone had bitten me.

She touched my lip and took her hand away. I realized she had healed another wound there. She shook her head.

"People need us," she said, taking my arm and leading me away from the remains of the orgy. "They pray to us, ask us to help them. You haven't been listening to prayers of late."

"I'm a god, mother, remember. I do what I want, when I want, how I want."

"True. But there are mortals who need your help." Her eyes narrowed. Aphrodite might look dim and behaved most of the time as if she were all body and no brains but that was deceptive. She was as smart as any of them. "And half mortals."

Alcippe.

My sweet half-sister was sitting on a bench by the window in her chambers, twisting the ends of her hair in her fingers. She was pretty, with our father's dark curls and eyes. She didn't have his terrifying beauty, though. None of his children inherited that from Ares. 

There was no outward sign of her assault, no bruises or scars left to mark her soft pink skin. But there was a shadow in her eyes as she stared at nothing.

I appeared, speaking her name softly.

She turned, half-rising, her lush mouth forming a perfect "o". Her hands went to her breast in shock. I flexed my wings a little.

"Cupid." She breathed my name. "You're Cupid, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I've come to see if you're all right."

She bit her full, lower lip. Oh, yes, she was our father's child.

"Did Papa send you?" 

Papa. I couldn't imagine calling "Ares" by such a foolish diminutive. I pushed that idea out of my mind and concentrated on the pretty girl in front me.

"Yes." Which was true, even if I had taken my time to get around to it. "He wanted to make sure that you didn't think what happened to you was the way it's supposed to be for a man and woman."

She blushed, ducking her eyes. She must have inherited that shy innocence from her mother. "I know that what he did was. . .wasn't really. . "

I stepped forward, my hand cupping her face. She looked up at me, eyes wide and framed with short, thick dark lashes. 

"No. What he did was violence." I leaned down and kissed her lips, gently. I breathed in the curving shell of her ear. She wore a simple dangling pearl earring. "This is how it is to be done."

She came to me willingly, her body melting against mine.

***

Months could pass without my seeing my father. Unless he had need of me for some scheme of his, we had no particular reason to speak. Still, after I had visited Alcippe a few times, as he wanted, I felt I should report to him. He was a commander and he liked to know his underlings were obeying him.

I found him standing on a cliff overlooking the sea, near one of his largest temples, talking to Poseidon. I kept well back, puzzled, as the God of the Sea rose great and mighty above his nephew. They didn't seem to be arguing. After a few moments, Poseidon melted back into the waves and Ares turned around. I called his name.

"What was that about?"

"What? Oh, wanted to make sure some tributes I arranged were properly paid. Have to sail some soldiers over to Rhodes and I don't want rough seas causing a problem."

"Poseidon isn't still angry about Halirrhothius?"

A line appeared between my father's brows. "What? Oh, that." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "We both know that was just Zeus." Ares gave me a sideways grin. "Poseidon isn't happy about having ripped his worthless son in half but he would have done the same thing in my place. I think that's why Zeus thought it was safe case for his new theory. After all, if he had actually condemned a god, there would have been Tartarus to pay."

There had been rebellions before I was born, of some of the gods against Zeus. I wondered, as I followed my father back up to his temple, whose side I would have taken.

Ares liked to walk. He was the only god I knew who preferred his mortal form over his divine one and often behaved as if it were his only form. He ate mortal food, had mortal lovers, fought battles in mortal guise and walked when he could have simply willed himself into the temple. I wasn't actually walking. I was using my wings to hold myself a little off the ground, particularly when we came to a steep climb.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, smiled slyly, and gave me a push, letting me know he knew what I was doing. When I was a child, I had followed him like this and he would occasionally stop and chase me, letting me flap away from him, giggling. Had Zeus ever played with Ares the way Ares had played with me? There were so many questions about my father that I never dared ask.

"So," he said, laughing a little and shaking his head as I flew ahead of him, "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to tell you I'd seen Alcippe."

"Ah." His face darkened. "How is she?"

"Fine." I walked after him into his temple and the inner sanctum. "She seems to have had no ill effects from her assault."

"Good." He poured himself a goblet of wine, offering me one.

"She mentioned she hasn't seen you in a while. Not since. . ."

My voice trailed off at his expression. He turned away from me. 

Ares was angry but not with the dead Halirrhothius, not with Poseidon or Zeus. He was the protector of the weak and helpless. He was angry with himself.

"It wasn't your fault," I said, wondering how one was supposed to go about comforting the God of War. "You didn't know what would happen. Couldn't have, unless Apollo has taken to sending you messages from his Sybil."

I heard him snort with what might be laughter. I knew that Ares avoided his bastard brother if at all possible. 

"Alcippe doesn't blame you. She's grateful that you rescued her as quickly as you did." I remembered what I had seen. "Took care of her."

Another snort from Ares. He tossed back the contents of the cup before throwing it towards the wall. Then he stepped backward to lie on a couch. It was a neat trick of his, one that had made me smile when I was little. There wasn't a couch when he started to bend his knees but by the time he landed, there was black leather couch, trimmed in silver, for him to lie on. He stretched out on it, raising his hands over his head. I walked over to stand beside him.

"You know what your problem is?" I said, moving slowly and carefully. I stepped over the couch, resting my knees on either side of Ares' hips until I was straddling his body. As I settled down on him, I leaned forward, wrapping my hands around his wrists. We both knew I couldn't hold him if he didn't want to be held. In a battle of sheer strength, he could defeat me in a second. I flared my wings, using them to keep most of my weight off of him. He could easily support me but I didn't want us pressed that closely together yet. Our eyes met and locked.

"What?" he said, his voice carefully neutral.

I leaned forward, settling onto him. He shifted, not to push me away but to make himself more comfortable.

"You're willing to be the protector but you're not willing to admit why you're the protector."

His lips twitched. "Ah," he said, shifting again. "And why is that?"

I found the feel of him beneath, restrained by me through his consent, very arousing. However, I'm the God of Love and if don't want my body to respond physically, it doesn't, which came in very handy just now. I didn't want him getting the wrong idea.

I bent down, close enough that our noses almost touched. I turned my head a little, so I could whisper intimately in his ear. "You don't want to admit that you are motivated by anything besides bloodlust and your territorial urges."

He laughed, softly, at my last word. "And to what do you credit my motivation?"

Sitting back, I met his eyes again. He seemed amused.

"I would think it would be obvious," I replied. "Love of Greece. Love of those you are set over as protector."

I expected him to be angry, to deny it. Instead, he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Silly boy," he said, pulling one wrist easily free of my grasp. He rested it against my cheek. "I admit it. I protect those things I love." He grinned. "And I love a good fight, so it all fits together. Disappointed?"

Regretting my actions, angry that he was, as usual, the victor in our encounters, I started to pull away. Moving as fast as lightning, Ares had my wrists held in his unbreakable grip. His legs were wrapped around mine. His power was holding me as well, so I couldn't escape even if I abandoned my physical form.

"What did you expect? That I would deny your little accusation?"

"It wasn't an accusation." I pulled, hard. He barely noticed. I had forgotten how strong he really was, compared to me. 

"Of course I protect the things I love." He yanked me closer, his breath hot on my cheek. "That's why I protect Greece. That's why I protected Alcippe. That's why I'd protect you, if you were threatened." 

I froze. He had never, ever said it so bluntly. Never. Not when I was a giggling child, flying around his temples; not when I was sulking half-grown godling who tried his patience; not when he first taught me his sexual techniques and I lay trembling in his arms. Never.

His eyes were so close I could see every perfect lash, I could see the thin black ring around the irises, which weren't black but dark brown, flecked with green, black, gold and red. I could see myself, reflected in wide pupils.

"I'm willing to admit," he whispered, "that I am capable of love. That I love you. Now, when are you going to admit how much like me you are?"

He didn't let me go but he let me pull away a hands breadth. "I love you, too," I said, breathless, confused. 

He shook his head, his dark curls caressing his shoulders. I could hear the sound his heavy hair made as it moved across the leather that covered his shoulders.

"That's not it. When are you going to admit, Eros, son of Ares, that in that sweet loving heart of yours, there is room for the bloodlust, the brutality, that thrives in mine?"

Now I was struggling, throwing us both to the floor as my wings fanned the air, unable to lift our combined weight. My jaw was so tightly clenched that I could barely get the words out.

"I am not like you!" I gasped, furious that I couldn't even get one hand free. I wasn't a fighter. I'd seen him fight, using his weight to unbalance an opponent, twisting and spinning free of any grip, but I had no idea how to do it myself. He'd taught my younger brothers but not me. I was the God of Love, after all.

He was laughing, that loud, mocking laugh of his that I hated. I managed to get a leg free, hoping to use it for leverage. He did something and I found myself pinned painfully under him, my wings spread out across the cold floor. 

"Is it so terrible," he said, his voice conversational, as if we were standing around discussing the weather, "to admit that you are capable of violence? That you wanted to do the same thing to Halirrhothius that I did?"

I didn't answer. I was too busy struggling, desperate, ignoring the pain in my physical body as I thrashed under him.

"Come on, Cupid." He made my name an obscenity. "Admit it. When you saw that bastard stick his cock into her virgin body, you wanted to rip him in half, just the way I did. When you saw the blood and heard her scream, you wanted to tear his heart out. Didn't you? Didn't you?"

I could see it, the horrific attack that we had all seen replayed at the trial. I thought of Alcippe, warm and willing under me. Then I thought of her under him. Of the pain as he tore into her.

"That's been haunting you, hasn't it, feather boy?" 

I was writhing under him in a fury, spitting and screaming, completely at the mercy of his power and his mockery. 

"That's why you want to make me into some kind of love god. Because you don't want to admit you have my bloodlust in you as well."

"Shut up, you bastard!"

"Who, me? Sorry, Cupie. My parents were married. I'm one of the only legitimate children on Olympus. You're the bastard." 

"I. Am. Not." I did it. I got one hand free and under his jaw, pushing him away. I got my feet under me and shoved. As I staggered to my feet, I finished my panting sentence. "You."

"No?" He was on his knees, looking up at me, head cocked to one side, grin in place. "You could fight like me, if you knew how. You've got my temper. You could have killed Halirrhothius given the chance. Maybe not the same way I did but I could see you breaking his neck. Shooting one of those lead arrows of yours right between his eyes." His grinned widened. "Right below that crest of his. Made an easy target."

I turned away, sickened. I could see it. Could see an arrow protruding from his head, revenge for what he did.

"Is is so awful, to be my son?"

My heart stopped. His voice had changed. No longer mocking, he sounded. . .sad. My legs were shaking. I wanted to vanish into the aether, to run away from him, from this, but all I managed to do was lean against the black marble wall in front of me. 

His hands, warm and strong, laid across my shoulders, just above my wings.

"No," I whispered to the stones. "But I don't want to feel these things. This. . .hatred. I'm the God of Love, damn it!"

"If the God of War can love," he said, his voice calm and reasonable, "why can't the God of Love feel some hate now and then?"

To my surprise, I heard myself laughing. Imagine. Ares being reasonable.

"Halirrhothius deserves your hatred," he continued, his hands massaging my shoulders. "I will admit I might have overreacted a bit by tearing him in half like that." He paused. "I should have just ripped his dick off."

He turned me around, wiping the tears from my face, then pulled me against him, the way he had in his cell. I slid my arms around his waist, leaning on him, letting him hold me up. I knew it was no effort on his part. His voice continued, rumbling in his chest.

"You're afraid that you're too much like me, aren't you? "

I whimpered. His arm tightened. 

"You shouldn't be. You shouldn't be afraid of what's in your heart. You are my son, not me, and while there is part of me in you, there is your mother as well."

My mother. Laughing after the trial. Laughing and shrugging away the violence done by her lover.

"She's not. . ."

"Not free of hatred, either. No one is. But you don't have to worry."

He pushed me away, enough that he could look into my eyes. One big hand cupped my face. His eyes. So dark. So deep. I could fall into those dark eyes and never reach bottom.

"My parents love each other with an all-consuming passion and hate each other, in equal measure. The result of that is a child that is constantly torn, at war with himself, as it were."

I made a soft sound of protest. His fingers petted my cheek, stroking, caressing.

"That is my destiny, the secret to my soul." He shook his head. "I don't mind. That's what I am." The broad grin of the God of War flickered across his face. "But you are different. Your parents. . ." His smile changed, turning gentle. "Your mother loves me. I annoy her but she still loves me, with the depth of love only the Goddess of Love can manage. And, in my own way, I love her. Oh, she annoys me a good deal of the time." He paused. "Most of the time. Almost all the time. But I still love her. We don't hate each other at all. Or at least, not enough to matter." 

"And you'd protect her." My voice sounded wrong, weak and childish.

"Of course I would." He tilted his head. "Let me tell you something. A prediction, if you will."

"Isn't that Apollo's territory?"

He laughed. Not his barking war laugh but his soft, genuinely amused chuckle. "Maybe. But this is a special case.

"Someday, maybe soon, maybe not for centuries, you'll meet someone, probably not a god, since you've met most of them. A mortal then. You will meet a mortal and fall hopelessly, passionately, perfectly and permanently in love." His voice was low, slow. "It will be the most perfect love that ever existed. That will ever exist. That is your destiny, as God of Love, to become half of the greatest love affair in history."

I snorted in disgust. He chuckled, pulling me tightly against him again. 

"It will happen. I live for War. You live for Love."

"Maybe. But I still wanted to hurt him for what he did to Alcippe."

"Sometimes, love hurts, too." Now he snorted and I realized we sounded exactly the same when we made that noise. "Now that is the most inane thing I have ever said. I think I should shut up before I say something even more stupid."

"You should go see Alcippe," I said. I sounded sleepy, as I were replete from lovemaking, rather than from a fight. Funny, the effect Ares had on me.

"I know." He sighed. How many people had ever heard the God of War sigh? He was resting his cheek on the top of my head. For once, I was glad that he was still taller than I was. "I will. Tomorrow. I have a meeting some with warlords tonight."

Straightening, I pushed away from him. "Will it last all night?"

Shaking his head, he said. "Still the God of Love, aren't you?"

"And Sex and Passion and lots and lots of fucking. You game?"

"Yeah, maybe." He tugged the front of his jerkin down, his sword suddenly appearing on his hip. "I have to go now. Oh, and thanks for taking care of Alcippe. I appreciate it."

And then he was gone.

I sat down on the couch he had left behind, still feeling uncertain. I was young, for a god, as was my father. Maybe we both had a few things yet to learn, about love and hate and the bright and dark places in a god's soul.

Eros, son of Ares, I thought. It does have a ring to it.

June 2001

**Author's Note:**

> While I loved Iolaus best, I did some of my best writing because of Thamiris and the KSAres list. She was taken from the world far too soon.


End file.
